


If You Must Die, Sweetheart

by AngelOfBooze



Series: Autistic!Simon Monroe [6]
Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Autistic Simon Monroe, Autistic!Simon Monroe, Canonical Character Death, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 20:50:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2595983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelOfBooze/pseuds/AngelOfBooze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The events leading up to Amy's funeral.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Must Die, Sweetheart

**Author's Note:**

> This was a long time coming. I am so, so, sorry for that! I hope you enjoy! I think I gave Simon an auditory processing disorder here because he can't understand Kieren??  
> Also, yes. Obvious title is obvious.
> 
> All mistakes are mine. Please point them out to me!

Simon could feel his heat pounding in his chest. Today was a day he had not been looking forward to. Amy had wanted a nice, bright funeral. Simon didn’t know why he was invited. He had made her life dark lie the clouds that were hanging over Roarton on the day of _Amy’s funeral_. He hadn’t helped Amy. Simon felt like Amy’s death was his fault. Is hands were shaking. Simon knew that Amy was with Philip because she wasn’t with him. If he had just stayed with her she might have not gone to the graveyard. He could have kept Maxine away. Simon felt his heart climb into his throat. Simon heard a series of knocks at the door, jolting him out of his thoughts. Kieren was here to pick him up. Kieren was here to help him say goodbye. He was going to say goodbye to Amy. Simon didn’t want to say goodbye. He wanted to say what he never had a chance to while Amy was alive. Why didn’t he say anything?

Simon pushed himself up off of the bed. Kieren had made his way into the front hall of the bungalow, Simon had left the door unlocked for him. Simons mind was blank. He couldn’t think of what to say. He felt like he should say something. Anything. Kieren saved him the trouble by wrapping his arms around him, grounding him in a tight embrace.

Simon’s brain was fogged up with grief. He was half way out the door with Kieren when he realized where he was going. Simon was going to a funeral. Amy’s funeral. There was so much buzzing in Simons head. So much he didn’t get a chance to say to Amy. _I’m sorry about Kieren. I’m sorry about dragging you back to Roarton. I’m sorry about Kieren. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry._ It was only when Kieren was bending down to look into his face that Simon realized he had slid halfway down the wall. He was clutching at his temples, “I’msorry..I’msorry..Sorrysorrysorry” he was mumbling over and over. Kieren’s hands were hovering uncertainly just above his shoulders. Simon desperately wanted to have Kieren hold him close, hold him so tightly for so long that they missed the funeral. Missed saying good bye to Amy. Missed saying _sorry_. A strangled dry sob escaped Simon’s lips before he had a chance to swallow it down. Of course it was dry. Zombies couldn’t cry. _Monsters_ couldn’t cry.

Kieren wrapped his arms around Simon, squeezing him until he could feel his shoulder blade scraping uncomfortably against his ribs. Simon shook in Kieren’s grasp, wracked with hard, dry sobs. Why did they have to be dry? At least he wouldn’t be making a scene at the funeral. At Amy’s funeral. Simons hand grasped tightly at the rough material that made up Kieren’s jacket, his fingers wormed their way under Kieren’s collar until Simon could grasp at the short hairs at the base of Kieren’s neck. Simon grounded himself, holding onto Kieren tightly. He could hear the stutter in Kieren’s breathing next to his ear. Why was Kieren breath? Simon didn’t care. He let the question go. Right now he was sad.

What did Simon have to be sad about? He wasn’t as close to Amy as Kieren was. Why was Kieren comforting him? Why wasn’t it the other way around? Simon shook himself free of Kieren’s firm grasp and stumbled backwards into the bungalows door frame. Simon didn’t feel the pain blooming along the back of his head to care. Simon wanted to scream. He wanted to scream his regrets to the sky. He wanted the grey, turmoils clouds to swallow them up and spit them out. He wanted the clouds to spit his regrets out as the cleansing waters of the rain.

Simon’s making high pitched noises now. Why did Amy want him at her funeral? Why did Amy want him anywhere near her? He ruined her _life_. Simon blinked and blinked, he could feel his head lolling about on his shoulders. His hands were making desperate swiping motions through the air; as if trying to wipe away his demons. He could never wipe away all of his demons. He killed his own _mother_ for god’s sake. Simon thumped back against the wall. He wasn’t doing it for the distraction, it was just that he couldn’t go anywhere but _back_. His feet kept pushing him into the wall then away. Then back. Then away. Then back.

Kieren was talking to him now, in quiet, hushed tones. Simon replied by pulling at his lower lip, wiping his forearm over his inside out lip. He felt inside out, His mind was jumbled about. Amy was _dead_ because of him. Dead. Dead. Dead. Amy was dead. She wasn’t coming back this time. DEAD.

Simon crouched down into a squat before lurching forward and hitting the carpet face first. Kieren was starting to use a sharper tone. Of course Kieren blamed him for Amy’s death. Of course he was angry. It was only a matter of time before Kieren left him on the floor, rolling around, trying to get a grip. Why couldn’t he pull himself together? Kieren was so put together. His hair was nice. His clothes were nice. He was just waiting for Simon. Simon who was dragging him back. Back. Back. Simon who _couldn’t let go_.

Simon pushed himself into a seated position “Fuuckk” He moaned. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck” He said. Kieren was still with him. Kieren was going to be late. Kieren couldn’t be late. Amy was Kierens’ _friend_. He couldn’t make Kieren miss his friends’ funeral. Amys’ funeral. Simon pushed himself onto his feet, scrabbling at the door for something to pull himself up with and instead meeting Kieren’s hand with his. “C’mon, Simon” Kieren said. Simon nodded.

Simon could feel the wind whipping at his clothes, threatening to rip them away from him. Simon hated the wind. It buffeted him from all angles. No matter how he stood it still tore at his clothes. Through his clothes. He knew he’d be cold, if he could feel temperature. Shirley, Philip and the living Walkers were shaking. Simple.

It was his turn to thro something in Amy’s grave. His turn. To throw something. Into Amys’. Grave. He didn’t have anything. He didn’t have anything that meant something to both of them. He only had his words. His words that amused her endlessly with the poems he remembered and recited back for her. For Amy. The girl he _killed_. He left only one word in her grave. Only one word for Amy to take with her.

Sorry.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed!   
> I love all of your kudos and comments! They're what keep me going!  
> Come and cry over Amy Dyer with me on my tumblr, angelofbooze!


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